Just Another Girl
by BankruptSamurai
Summary: They always said he was one of the girls, but this was getting ridiculous!


******Disclaimer: None of the upcoming copyrighted media belongs to me.**

**JUST ANOTHER GIRL**

Prologue

_Assuming Direct Control_

If the sensation had to be described, most would consider it akin to the slipstream of a jet turbine mercilessly yanking them back. In this case however, the consciousness ripped from the mind of the twenty-seven year old demon hunter experienced all the horrors of the phenomena combined with a searing pain that shot through the aged, battle-scarred body, an overwhelming sense of vertigo accompanied by a roar of sound, color, sensation and magic.

In all, hardly a pleasant experience.

Just as the consciousness nearly fell to madness, to dissolve into little more than random, disjointed thoughts throughout time and space - everything stopped and a world slowly but surely formed around it. Color became whole once more, stillness immediately asserted itself amongst mind, body and soul and the world unwillingly came into focus for one Alexander Lavelle Harris. Before he could even take the time to enjoy it, however, there was suddenly something gripping his ankle with an unholy strength that caused a shock of pain to shoot through his leg. As he began to cry out in pain more than surprise - something which surprised him even more, as he was _used_ to pain like this by now - his leg was yanked out from beneath him while the rest of his body went unceremoniously backwards.

As his head hit the ground, he dazedly noted that he'd heard a female shriek that was awfully familiar. But it didn't sound like Vi or that detective lady, Lockley, and he damn well _knew_ it wasn't Faith. Sure, the Bostonian slayer would occasionally let out that exceptionally girly noise, but never in company and definitely not in front of the others. Xander blinked. Had that been Fred? Oh shit. Had the spell actually had the balls to fail!?

Before he could continue that train of thought, Xander was aware that the crushing grip on an ankle that was screaming in protest was actually pulling him somewhere. He glanced towards his ankle, eyes widening. _Tentacle! Great Zeus, tentacle!_ As panic set in, he glanced up and felt the blood rush from his face. He was gazing into the nightmarish maw of tentacles, of writhing and wriggling fleshy bits, of teeth like razors and pieces of some fucked-up jigsaw puzzle. He'd only heard the stories, having been preoccupied with a zombie gang intent on blowing the school sky high, but he could recognize the beast that guarded the Hellmouth any day of the week.

Suddenly, glass shattered. A roar of anger. The Master miraculously staking himself on a sturdy piece of wood. Xander frowned, remembering that he would actually be coming in right about . . .

"Willow!"

Now.

What the fuck? Even as the tentacle relaxed its grip on his throbbing ankle, he saw what was undoubtedly his sixteen year old self dressed in a dark pullover not only grab a battleaxe but swing it down and through the loosening tentacle. There was no shriek of pain, just a feeble cry instead, as the spawn of the Hellmouth slowly slid into the ground as the Master died. This hadn't happened before.

"Hey Wills, you okay?" Not-Xander asked, a look of worry on his face. Xander blinked, realizing this phony . . . _oh no. Oh no way!_ His eyes widened - and that was neat, having two peepers again - as he understood. The spell had succeeded alright.

"Uh, yeah, Xand. Nothing a IcyHot won't fix," Xander muttered. A blurry memory came back to him then, of sitting in the middle of a diagram made of his own blood and having Ethan Rayne chant slowly, occasionally dumping some disturbingly glittery dust on him. Then, as the last of the words were being spoken, there had been an angry roar. Xander nearly sighed as he realized the temporal-mental transference spell had been interrupted by a demon attack. More than likely, Ethan Rayne - well, the Ethan Rayne who'd redeemed himself somewhat and was last seen alive in the year 2007 - had been killed in the attack and the necessary mental focus had been lost. Which resulted in Xander Harris' current situation.

"Alright, come on, Will," Xander replied. Because whether she wanted to admit it or not, the spell that was supposed to transfer the mind of a twenty-seven year old Xander Harris into his eighteen year old counterpart's had failed spectacularly. Instead, the one-eyed demon hunter's mind had somehow winded up taking space in the recently sixteen year old Willow Danielle Rosenberg's head. As Xander helped her up, Will scowled.

"This is so not cool," she muttered unhappily, feeling like a total stranger in this body. She didn't think of anything else, though. Her future self's mind was here, obviously. So were the memories, the skills, the personality, the _soul_ . . . and that meant that more than likely, a sixteen year old Willow Rosenberg was in a twenty-seven year old Xander Harris' body.

"I know, Wills, I know. I'll get you home. Promise," Xander whispered as a very quiet, contemplative looking Buffy entered the library.

* * *

As it turned out, Will's prediction was spot on. Willow Rosenberg had just enough time to realize she wasn't by Jenny Calendar's side any longer, instead in some run-down dump of a place that smelled like a whole bunch of ickiness and oh God when did she loose an eye!?

Which was all she had time to contemplate as an older gentlemen's headless body fell in front of her. As Willow opened her mouth to scream, she heard a "fuck, Boytoy, _move_!" followed by a very angry and inhuman growl. She saw a dark gray, cracked hand enter her eyesight and she had just enough time to note how dangerous the exceptionally long, blackened fingernails looked before they plunged into her neck. There was a white-hot pain in her throat, liquid fire pouring down her skin and a horrible, brief lack of sensation before things got dark.

As Willow Rosenberg found herself decapitated in place of her best friend, the Sk'varik demon who'd ended her life fell seconds later to an enraged, grief-stricken Bostonian wielding a claymore.

* * *

Will Rosenberg. Not a name that she was used to - not that she was even used to actually _being_ a she - but one that could work. She expected to be called 'Willow' and 'Wills' and that she'd somehow have to explain to Buffy that she had absolutely no interest whatsoever in boinking her bestest bud since kindergarten; but she would make it through. She had to. The spell wasn't one that could be repeated even if she'd bothered to memorize it in the first place, so she'd have to make do with what she had.

Which meant accepting she was now female.

In the body of her best friend, Willow Rosenberg, and for all intents and purposes, _was_ Willow Rosenberg.

That the spell had gone back nearly two years before intended.

The gender and identity crisis would take years, Will knew that much. She was deciding to focus on how much that damned Hellmouth spawn had hurt her ankle rather than her horrible balance, and the worrying lack of penis between her legs - _and man there is a thought no man should ever have!_ she thought to herself - in an effort to forego the breakdown. The identity theft was of the bad, no doubt about it, but that could be pushed aside in favor of adapting to it as quickly as possible. The spell had certain edicts that were to be treated as word of god and one of them was that the initial subject of the spatiotemporal transference was to keep themselves secret.

Which would be easy as Xander Harris, bestest bud of Willow Rosenberg and the boy who defied prophecy for Buffy Summers. Stuck in the body of Willow Rosenberg however, it would be necessary to maintain a very Willow-like quality until at least Halloween. Because then, she might have a reason to act a bit differently. But even then, she was Willow "Will" Rosenberg - and hell if she wasn't going to push that nickname to its limits - until her last. While the spell was vague on the exact punishment breaking one of its laws would entail, Will was not keen to find out anytime soon.

However, getting an extra year to completely stomp all over the First Evil's plans was very, very nice and made her wonder why she didn't just have Ethan aim for the time of Buffy's arrival in the first place. But for now, Will was content to relax in arms that were once her own and lay heavily into the body she knew could handle it. There was a surreal moment as Xander tightened his grip on her hip and gave her a small smile.

"Sure you're okay, Will?"

"Yep. The Hellmouth beastie just got me a little better than I thought," she replied cheerfully, then carefully let her expression drop. "Sorry I'm keeping you from the dance."

"Are you kidding? A Spring Fling without Willow? That's crazy talk, right there," Xander said. Will saw through it, but let it go. She thought for a moment. While she was dying to get her tennis shoes off, get out of the freakin' tights Willow had worn and immediately begin planning, she remembered how she felt after how both Buffy and Willow had rejected her. A quick mental sigh later, she spoke.

"If you say so, Xand."

"I do."

"So, movie night?" she asked and watched a grin spread over Xander's face.

"Y'know, after tonight, I am in a particularly kaiju state of mind," he replied, the grin turning teasing - one she returned.

"_Mothra Vs. Godzilla_?" she asked innocently, enjoying how the look of dumbfounded awe wasn't on her face, for once.

"Willow. You are the best," Xander replied happily and pulled more of her weight on him, as to assist in getting to her house faster. She needed to make plans for a future that would become very dark, very soon and she needed to prepare this entirely ill-equipped body for that future; but putting aside one night for a bit of fun could be forgiven in light of the day she'd just had and those that had yet to come.

* * *

**This is a response to Challenge 7960: Xander mental time travel... into the wrong body! and this prologue is merely to lay the groundwork for the challenge. The story proper will take off with chapter one and will focus more on the changes that Xander "Will Rosenberg" Harris plans on introducing to the timeline and dealing with all the consequences that come with any form of time travel, while also dealing with the sudden change of body. If anyone's wondering, yes, the title of the prologue is technically a direct quote from _Mass Effect 2_ and no, you shouldn't expect chapter one before Wednesday. Monday I'm visiting a friend, Tuesday I'll be off drinking myself stupid in celebration of my birth. Best day ever, and all.**


End file.
